Ok so this is it! This is the master peice story. Well it isn't quite finished being touched up and what not but anyways here it is.
Sometimes it seemed like this old town was never really the place for Diana Lane, but she lived here her whole life anyways. No one really new why. Shewas different, something about the way she would always try to be the first one to make tracks after the first snowfall, or the way she would spend forever at the market choosing the most perfect apples, or how someone might catch her in the spring dancing through fields of flowers, like a child fantasizing she was a
fairy queen. No, she wasn’t cut out for a life in Laurington, people in Laurington didn‘t fantasize or dream the way Diana did. They didn‘t imagine they were elsewhere or enjoy the simple beauties of life. We simply lived in Laurington. Mothers stayed home. Fathers worked. Children played, then they grew up and moved away to the city. I guess that’s why I’m different, like her.
I remember my first encounter with her. It was fall and the colors of the trees had made me itch for the freedom I never had. I made Aunt Lacey push me out to the park, so I could sit wrapped in my favorite wool blanket and just watch. I watched the children run and jump in the neatly raked piles of bright orange and
red leaves, I saw their parents come, and in exasperation rake the leaves again, angry at their child’s thoughtless games. I saw Diana coming from the corner of the field. She wore a red sweater and her hair was coiled into a pile of silver braids on the nape of her neck. Some people thought she was strange. I did once too.
It wasn’t a cold day, but she walked slightly bent as if leaning into some strong force of wind. She carried a basket full of some good deed that would soon be delivered, it was almost expected that if Diana Lane was knocking on your door that you would receive some home cooked treat, or a bunch of wildflowers. No one really knew why she did this, but secretly I thought that people felt special when Diana Lane chose to give them her small offers of friendship. I didn’t stare because I knew that wasn’t polite, but secretly I wished I could of. She was always a mystery to me, something that I just couldn‘t understand. I don’t know why I ever really wanted to understand her, none of the other children paid any mind to her, but in some ways I think we are a lot alike, Diana Lane and I.
Kurt and the other boys always came to this park to play football or soccer. I was hoping they would come today, so I could watch their games full of rough boyish behaviors. Sometimes, if it was a good day one of them might toss the ball with me for a while. It never lasted long because I couldn’t run and catch or tackle and so they soon lost interest. It always was a good day if this happened.
I don’t remember much about the accident or how I came about being in a wheelchair, but Aunt Lacey once said I was lucky to be alive and that god must have been watching me and showing me mercy like only god can. I didn’t know about that, because I was sure I’d sinned more then my lovely Mother ever had, and god didn‘t show her any mercy. Sometimes I think its fairies that saved me, but when I told Aunt Lacey this she just frowned and said that was nonsense and that some were luckier then others. I still believe in god, but I think even he can make mistakes. Mistakes like letting my mother die. My mother and Diana were friends once along time ago before I was even born. I guess it was because
of my Mother that I spoke to her that day. Some people believe that when
someone passes away that you really love, they never really leave you. If I believed it at anytime it would have been when I made up my mind to talk to
Diana Lane.
It was starting to get dark. I was still waiting. I knew that she would cross that field again to get back to her small stone house on the other
edge of town. Finally, the small hunched figure came trudging through a gap in the trees, the basket now noticeably empty. I managed to maneuver my wheel chair along the path towards her, I was out of breath by the time I was close enough to call her name. My own voice surprised me. She didn’t seemed startled at all when she approached me. She smiled and patted my head, as would have been expected from any elderly lady addressing a young boy. I didn’t think that she even knew me. “You knew my mother?” I finally choked out the words. Her tired face was rosy from the cold and I thought that she might have been quite pretty if it wasn’t for the lines that creased her face, spilling out all her secret worries for the world to see.
Diana Lane was my best friend from that day on. You see, we share something between us that I had never really wanted to share with anyone else. It didn’t seem to matter that I was young and crippled with Diana, she didn‘t hold me back or tell me that we couldn‘t go places because I was in a wheelchair. I could tell Diana all of my stories and thoughts, and she would tell me hers. She would push me in my wheelchair through endless fields and to clear blue ponds. Our imaginations together made nature into exciting dreamlands, fields that sparkled
with morning dew were where fairies and elves had danced the night before,
ponds were crystal globes that showed the future, and the bright leaves in the fall were fires that warmed our souls. In our world everything was right. I could walk and run like other children, and Diana was young and beautiful again. Those afternoons spent with Diana seemed endless. My childhood drifted away with waves of her smile and smells of good things cooking from her kitchen. She was the only one that made me feel normal.
It was spring of 1988 when I got the letter. Diana was old, well into her eighties. I was sixteen. The letter read that doctors had discovered ways to fix my condition, I might be able to walk and even run if I let them proceed with the costly operation, I could hardly read the rest of the letter, my hands shook and I fought to contain my urge to be like the others. The weeks flew by. The tension in the house rose to extremes and Diana Lane was forgotten in the rush of saying good bye, filling out forms, and packing my things. I was going to have the operation the following week. I would take a train from Laurington to Carnsbury and then I would go to Carnsbury Children’s Hospital. It would take months to fully recover.
I didn’t think much of Diana Lane in the weeks that followed. The operation didn’t hurt much, its been only 3 weeks since and I’m learning how to walk. The doctors think it’s a great success. I will be able to run! Each step I take is a huge effort, but I believe everyday it seems easier. I can’t wait to play games with the
other boys in the fields.
I ran today. The doctors said I could go home. I’m going back to Laurington tomorrow. When I get there the first thing I’m going to do is go to Kurt’s house and show him how I can run and walk like he and the other boys do. I bet he’ll ask me to play on his football team! I’m really glad I got the operation. Aunt Lacey said that even though I’m almost normal now, I can’t stop thanking god
even if it was the doctors that fixed me. I guess that makes sense, I used to believe that fairies would fix me someday, but I guess that is all dumb, imagining stuff. You don‘t need to imagine anything when you have two good legs to use. I used to want to be a writer too, so I could put the beauty of the world down on paper so no one would ever forget it and so that kids that used to be like me in a
wheel chair could appreciate it, even from their bedroom windows. I think that’s kind of silly now. A foot ball player seems like a better job for me, and besides it really doesn’t matter if the world is pretty, does it?
I got back to Laurington last night. This morning Aunt Lacey was muttering something about how now that I can walk and run like normal boys I’m becoming more and more like a sullen teenager. I don’t really know what she means. I just can’t wait to go to Kurt’s.
I walked through the field on my way to Kurt’s. The leaves are red and gold, but I don’t really notice the way they seem to dance and shine in the fall sunshine. Suddenly I look to the far side of the field, an image of a slightly hunched figure comes to my mind. Diana Lane. My dramatic thoughts of manhood and football are crushed and turn to thoughts of the frail old woman that taught me so much. I stand in the field my heart torn between the two, I turn to the path that leads to Diana’s but then turn back towards Kurt’s, towards football, jokes, friends, and normality. I guess its like I was faced with reality, I
had to make choices that my wheelchair had always made for me. The sounds
of boys running and laughing draws my attention to the other side of the field. Just my luck, Kurt and his friends are here already. Caught up in the rush of excitement to show off my new acquired skills I sprint towards them. They start clapping and slap me on the back, the news of my operation had spread throughout the town while I was away, and the boys had all been awaiting my return. I had watched them play before. I run to my position awaiting my first pass. Jimmy Shears throws it from the upper left corner of the field, I run hands stretched upwards. I anticipate the feeling, already the soft leather is sliding into my grip, they will all cheer, I will be a star. Thud. The ball hits my head with an explosion of little stars, I stumble and weave crashing into the ground. I can taste the dirt in my mouth, its salty, tears? No, not tears just dirt, I tell myself. I
lay there for a while not daring to lift my head to hear what Kurt and the others will say. When I dare to look up I see they have gone to the other corner of the field. None of them look towards me. I just get up and walk home, I guess it really doesn’t matter anyways it was only my first time. All the dirt is off my face now, but I can still taste the salty wetness on my cheeks.
As I walk home in the dusk, the red sun burns brightly and lights everything in its path like a fire out of control spitting flames down at the earth. Suddenly I turn, I run down the path, and past the market, I don’t stop when people stare and try to congratulate me. I just keep running. When I stop I collapse, my whole body shaking. I’m lying on the steps of a very familiar cottage. The leaves
in the front yard haven’t been raked and they lie scattered and forlorn on the grass like a child’s play things yet to be picked up. I look up at the hard wooden door. It stares at me like a guard, demanding what I have come for and although I know very well, I do not want to anger him. I sit for along time, hours maybe. I remember Diana. I remember everything we did together. I remember what she did for me. I look at the sky, a blaze of golden beauty. Its decorated for the
fairy’s ball I could almost hear her say. I know that I could enter myself into the world of dreams and fantasy again by knocking on the wooden door, I could exclude myself from the others and bury myself in the fantasies we shared. I could. I look once again at the sky, but it is black now. I cannot see any beauty in this blackness, maybe Diana could of found some small insignificant star to bring out and make shine brighter then all the rest, but not I. The walk home in the moonlight is quiet, the world seems to be holding its breath.
The days that follow seem to just melt away in my memory as the sun sets
after each one. One day as I’m playing football in the park I see a black vehicle drive down the path towards Diana’s. I run, chasing it. No one stares, and no one follows, they are used to my random bursts of speed. They say its because of all the running I lacked as a child. I watch as they carry Diana out of her house. I stop my chest heaving my heart sounds and I cannot see. I cry, but its ok, because no one sees me. I watch them drive away. Then I turn and walk, back hunched, shoulders sagging. I go to the pond. I hold my football in my hands, I feel the smooth leather and I finger the words stamped into its sides. I hold it high and I step back and throw, like only I’ve taught myself to throw. I watch my football arc in the golden sunlight and then dive towards the water. It hits the surface with a splash and I cry as I watch my waterlogged football sink
into the pond. Then its over, its gone. I am alone. I am not the man I thought I was, but I am more of a man without the football. I walk away from the pond and I don’t look back.
On my way home I stop in the middle of the park and look, high in the sky a rainbow shines. The trees glisten with a silvery misting of dew and the grass is like a golden carpet. The last of the summers leaves drift down and float like little red and orange magic carpets, down they fall, down, down, down. It really is a fairy’s world. Look Diana Lane, just look.
The End.
It is 2500 words exactly. I think its ok..if any one wants to suggest anything to me, I will gladly except both criticism and compliments! Oh yeah and I don't know what to call it either!